Obstacle Course
by hallucigenia sparsa
Summary: Sovereign has been defeated, but Shepard may be faced with her greatest challenge yet - the high society of the Citadel. FShenko. My attempt at humour. Rated M for adult content.


_Author's Note: This is another fic that I wrote right after playing ME1. Now it's been edited a bit to match the events of 2 and 3. Just random silliness, fShenko fluff and, in the second chapter I'm currently editing, a bit of smut. Enjoy! :)_

_~h. sparsa_

* * *

Shepard had been wearing the same polite smile for so long she was beginning to fear her face was really going to stay like that forever. The victory celebration had been going on for hours, but she had still only talked to about half the people in the room. Everyone who was anyone was present – politicians, generals, businessmen, criminals, spies, prostitutes and celebrities, complete with a sprinkling of journalists who were circling the various groups of guests like sharks an unsuspecting school of fish. And every single one of them wanted a piece of the hero. Shepard was exhausted.

The human diplomat she was currently conversing with was explaining to her what the war with the geth meant for future trade agreements, and she nodded absently. Her eyes wandered on their own accord toward the other end of the room, where Kaidan Alenko was standing at the bar. He met her eyes and smiled. She couldn't help but sigh wistfully.

Kaidan hated formal parties as much as she did, but he'd promised to stand by her throughout the ordeal – only they couldn't celebrate together. Not really. They were forced to address each other at least semi-formally, stand a respectable distance apart and only talk about innocuous topics like the weather (not that it was much of a topic on a space station) and the canapés. Worst of all, they weren't allowed to touch. It was torture. Sure, the pretence had been amusing for a while, but now, four hours later, she just wanted to drag him somewhere she could have her wicked way with him.

_Five minutes_, Kaidan mouthed and she gave him a hopeful smile. The plan was a go. She had no intention of celebrating the greatest victory in the history of the galaxy by hob-nobbing with pretentious politicians and smarmy journalists. She had altogether different ideas. She nodded enthusiastically at whatever the diplomat to was saying and let her eyes wander across the room, searching for a way out.

_Just th__ink of it as an obstacle course_, she told herself. She was here, on a balcony overlooking what was left of the Presidium Commons, and her goal were the double doors on the far side of the expansive ballroom. Between here and there were about a dozen clusters of guests that posed a danger of sucking her into yet another meaningless conversation.

She frowned and considered her options. She was probably able to get past all the ambassadors with just a few polite words, as long as she avoided the elcor, who had taken a liking to her and had already cornered her three times during the evening, first wanting to thank her for saving his life and then twice to discuss the intricacies of elcor culture. It had taken all her sweet-talking skills and a lucky break in the form of a request for a speech to get away from him.

The hanar ambassador, on the other hand, was completely safe and would only require a greeting. Behind him was just Udina, who certainly would not want to speak with her any more than what was absolutely necessary. Right now he was talking to a voluptuous young woman in a fashionable catsuit that looked painted on. Shepard shuddered and wondered briefly what exactly was in it for the girl to look so engrossed with the man.

The table where most of the Normandy crew was sitting was a gamble – they might let her pass with just a wave of their hand, but if she was unlucky they might insist on a drink. Or that she join them for a real drink after the party was over. As it was, they were already well beyond the politely inebriated state that the rest of the guests were still trying to maintain, and loud bouts of laughter echoed from the table at regular intervals. They would be her plan B, she decided.

She made her choice. She smiled brightly at the diplomat and thanked him for such a fascinating talk; it had been an absolute pleasure, but unfortunately she had to visit the restroom. She didn't wait for a reply, just flashed him a grin and made her way toward the first group, one composed of wealthy asari maidens whom she'd heard talking about latest fashions. She was fairly sure they weren't even interested in the Battle of the Citadel, as the attack was now known, at least not beyond the damage done to their favourite shopping centres.

"Commander Shepard!" someone called out behind her back. _Great. You forgot to check your six. You're drunk. You _never_ forget to check your six._ Shepard stopped and turned around, smile barely faltering. A pretty young woman with a camera bot hovering at her shoulder was making her way toward her. Shepard breathed a sigh of relief. At least it was just Emily Wong. Emily was her favourite journalist, if there indeed was such a thing. They had helped each other out before and it had worked out quite nicely.

"Commander Shepard, thank you very much for this interview. Tell me, are you enjoying the party?"

"Yes, very much." She had been repeating the lie for so long it came naturally by now. "It's very festive." _Festive? _She bit her tongue. _Where the hell did that come from?_ She really needed to lay off the champagne.

"Commander, I know what our audience is just dying to know. What were your thoughts when you climbed out from under the wreckage of that dreadnought?" Emily asked, lowering her voice dramatically. The general public was calling Sovereign a geth dreadnought, and so far no one had made any official contradiction. The implications of this were worrisome, but Shepard had not yet had time to quite think about what it meant.

"I was happy I survived, and even happier to see that my team had also made it out okay." In fact, her team had been the only thing on her mind when she crawled out from underneath the rubble. When she had spotted Kaidan it had taken all her strength not to kiss him senseless right then and there in front of Anderson and anyone else who happened to be watching. All she had been able to do was hug him briefly, and that only thanks to sweet Liara, who had run up to embrace her in tears as soon as she saw her, making it only natural that she greeted both her team mates the same way. After that it was back to business, to debriefing and getting patched up and explaining herself to the politicians and the brass.

"Oh, yes, your team. Your team made the news when it became known that you took the daughter of the controversial Matriarch Benezia with you to fight Saren. How do you comment?"

Shepard suppressed a sigh. Liara was an absolute darling and it was painful to see her being harassed by the press because of her mother. But Shepard was also selfishly glad that the news focused on her rather than the other half of her team, even if it made her feel guilty.

"Liara T'Soni has been and continues to be an invaluable member of my crew", she said a bit more firmly than was strictly polite. Emily seemed to get the message and smiled apologetically from behind the camera.

"Rumour has it that you are in for a promotion. Do you have a comment?"

"No. I haven't heard any such rumour." _And if the __brass__think__ they'__re__ going to saddle __me__ with a desk job they__'ll__ ha__ve__ another thing coming._

"I just have one final question. What are your plans for the rest of the evening?"

_Honestly? To ravish my Lieutenant_, she thought, but managed to make it come out as "To enjoy myself."

"An excellent plan. Thank you, Commander Shepard."

Emily left with a cheerful smile and Shepard raised her glass in farewell. _Damn_. She looked around and saw that the asari had dispersed – and worse, the elcor ambassador had spotted her and was heading her way. The only way past him took her to the centre of the room – and dangerously near the most hazardous group of them all, the one that included Captain – no, _Councilor_ Anderson, Admiral Hackett and the asari Consort, Sha'ira. But they seemed to be deep in conversation. The Consort really knew how to hold an audience. If she just walked very purposefully, she might be able to slip by unnoticed, Shepard thought. Anything was better than the elcor, anyway.

But she was apparently out of luck. Just when she thought she was safe, she heard Anderson call her name. She sighed, turned and grabbed another glass of champagne from a waitress that seemed to materialise out of nowhere.

"Shepard", Anderson greeted. He was in an unusually jovial mood himself, probably thanks to the all the refreshments. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"I – nowhere", she said and greeted everyone else in turn. "Enjoying your evening, sir?"

"I am. After all, we have good reason to celebrate, as you well know."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, don't be so formal, Shepard. Not tonight. It's your party, after all."

"Indeed", Sha'ira interjected. "You saved us all. The entire Citadel is in your debt. Everything here is for your entertainment – you just need to ask", she added with a sly smirk. Shepard coughed to hide her embarrassment. The asari had been flinging similar comments at her all evening. Shepard wasn't sure if she was actually hitting on her or simply teasing her.

"I'm fine, thank you", she said, which seemed to amuse the Consort even more. "I'm not really very comfortable with all this stuff. It's a bit... overwhelming."

Anderson chuckled. "I understand, Shepard. You're famous now, and you have to pay the price. I can sympathize."

She smiled, relieved. "Actually, I was hoping to excuse myself soon. I need to check in at my hotel or they give my reservation to someone else."

"Hotel?" Anderson asked. "You're the guest of honour, you don't have to worry about such things. There's no need to hurry. My guest room is yours."

"As is mine", Sha'ira echoed smoothly, only with a completely different undertone. Shepard grimaced inwardly and took a breath. She might have imagined it, but Admiral Hackett looked like he was about to facepalm.

"No, really, it's already been taken care of, sir, ma'am", she said. "I truly appreciate the offer, but my belongings have already been delivered." This was, of course, completely at odds with her previous statement, but she hoped Anderson wouldn't notice.

"Well, if you insist", Anderson shrugged. "But at least you shouldn't have to pay for it. Where are you staying? I'll contact them and arrange the bill to be sent to the Council." He reached for his omni-tool.

"No!" Shepard almost panicked. She had no reservation – everything was in Alenko's name to deter the journalists, who had been hounding her ever since her return. "Really, sir, everything has been taken care of."

"Very well, Shepard", Anderson said. "But in any case, I was under the impression that you would join the Council and the Admiralty Board for a drink in the cabinet after the official party winds down."

_Damn_. She had been hoping to disappear before the old farts – because that's what they were, really – managed to corner her. But then Sha'ira laughed with mischievous glee.

"Oh, I know what's going on", she said with a wicked glint in her eyes. "I believe the Commander has already made _other plans_."

Shepard's mouth formed an 'o' in protest, but apparently the look on her face said everything. She tried to hide her embarrassment by focusing on her drink, but her eyes inadvertently flitted to where Kaidan was standing. It was only for a split second, but it was enough for the Consort. Had she noticed? One look told Shepard that she had.

"Tell me, Commander. Who is the lucky one? Is he – or she – human? Or an asari perhaps?" she winked. "A soldier, like yourself?"

Did she know? Surely not? Shepard took a quick sip of champagne to buy time and also to try to take another surreptitious glance at Kaidan and his companions. Luckily he had his back toward her and there were at least seven other people in the group – Alliance personnel, a couple of asari, and two human civilians she had never met before. It could have been any one of them, she told herself.

"Really, Commander, we _must_ know", Sha'ira went on, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"No, really, it's all a misunderstanding", Shepard tried weakly, but to no avail. Sha'ira seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Is it someone in this room?" she asked with feigned shock. "And yet you haven't introduced us? Naughty, Commander, very naughty."

Shepard gulped down the rest of her champagne and really wished she had another drink at hand. But Sha'ira's insinuations had one positive effect. Both Hackett and Anderson looked positively mortified at their lack of perception – or at least Anderson did. Hackett was hiding it better. Actually, Shepard thought, Hackett probably had figured it out long before and was only uncomfortable with how the Consort was teasing her.

Either way, neither man made no further protest when she saluted them, shook the smirking Consort's hand and started towards the door. _Whatever_, she thought. _I'm walking out that door now, one way or another. _But again the odds seemed to be stacked against her. Not only was there no clear path for the door, but she could see another reporter loitering nearby, obviously waiting for her to stray her way. It was that al-Jilani woman, too – a hell of a reporter, but a complete bitch, with no sympathy for Shepard. Shepard looked around for an alternative route, but none could be found. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. _You've faced a goddamned ancient alien monster. This is __just __a party. You can do this. __S_he was just about to approach al-Jilani to get it over with when she spotted a large red shape making its way toward the bar, plowing a path through guests like they weren't there.

"Wrex!" she called out cheerfully and made a beeline for the hulking alien, snatching another glass of champagne from a waiter along the way. Al-Jilani glared at her but didn't follow. Having a krogan mercenary in your team had definite benefits.

"Shepard", Wrex greeted her levelly. "Off to party with your boyfriend, are you? I just saw him leave."

Shepard almost sprayed him with champagne.

"You know?" she whispered after she had recovered a bit.

"Ha! Of course I do", Wrex chortled. "I've smelled him all over you for days."

"Keep your voice down!" she hissed and cast a worried glance at the various aliens in the room. "Is it as obvious to everyone?"

"Nah, they're oblivious", Wrex scoffed. "No one here has a proper sense of smell. You don't see other krogan here, do you?"

"No", she conceded with a grimace. It was true. Wrex stood out like a very big, very red sore thumb among the assorted partygoers. "Sorry about that."

"No need", Wrex replied as good-naturedly as was possible for him. "No self-respecting krogan would want to associate with this crowd."

"I can imagine", Shepard grinned and looked around. Everyone, including the journalists, were giving the krogan a wide berth. She considered simply walking out the door with Wrex at her side but rejected the thought almost immediately. Even if the journalists wouldn't dare approach her in his company, her departure would attract so much attention that the paparazzis would be on her tail as soon as she set foot in the lobby. The whole point was to slip away unnoticed.

"Do you need a distraction, Shepard?" Wrex asked, following her gaze.

"Yes, please", she sighed emphatically. The krogan made a face she was pretty sure was his version of a smile.

"I'm on it", he said, clapped her on the shoulder with the force of a sledgehammer and started towards the Normandy table, strolling straight through a group of startled guests who scattered like pigeons. Hoping for the best, Shepard turned and started toward the door.

And smack into Ambassador Udina.

"Shepard", he said with some distaste, wiping the spilled champagne off his coat. "Enjoying the party?"

"Absolutely", she told him with a bright smile. Watching that _hateful_ man dab at his clothes made it almost worth losing the champagne. Her smile widened when she saw that his companion, the girl with the cleavage, had apparently had enough and disappeared. "How about you, sir?"

"I just finished talking with my good friend Miss al-Jilani", Udina said with equally fake cordiality. "She mentioned that she'd yet to interview you tonight, so maybe you'd like to follow me..."

_I would like to shove your face in the shrimp bowl_, she thought, but said simply, "Sure."

"Excellent." He began escorting her towards the waiting journalist. "I'm sure you'll have a lot to –" That was as far as he got before the ballroom echoed with an unmistakable krogan roar, followed by a human scream.

"What the hell?" Shepard turned and ran to the Normandy table. Wrex was standing next to Joker's chair, and the human – who had, for this one occasion, left his baseball cap home – was clutching at his shoulder, moaning.

"You goddamn brute!" he managed to scream at Wrex. "What the hell's the matter with you? You broke my clavicle!"

"Wrex, _for the hundredth time_", Shepard began angrily, grabbing the krogan by the arm, but Joker grasped at her sleeve. _Go_, he mouthed, winked, and promptly resumed screaming.

Shepard, knowing her moment had come, took a few surreptitious steps backward, checked that all eyes were indeed on Joker and then made for the exit at a run.


End file.
